


To All The Boys I've Loved Before AU

by RosetintedElmax



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King, To All the boys i've loved before
Genre: F/M, The original work/plot is in the books of the same title, by Jenny Han
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-12
Updated: 2018-07-12
Packaged: 2019-06-09 11:01:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15266091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosetintedElmax/pseuds/RosetintedElmax
Summary: The reader writes letters to all the boys she's ever loved, but never sends them. One day, mysteriously, they get out.





	1. Prologue

[Prologue]

 

I like to save things. Nothing too big, nothing life changing. No, I like to save stupid things. The kind of things most kids stop giving a crap about after sixth grade, like their collection of porcelain animals, or report cards from the early days of elementary school. Out of everything I save, out of everything I own, really, I guess you could say that my love letters are my most prized possessions.

I keep my letters in a rosy pink, round, hatbox my mother bought from some vintage store a million years ago. They’re not letters that anyone else wrote _to_ me. No, I’ve never gotten any of those, if you must ask. I wrote these letters myself. There’s one for every boy I’ve ever loved- so, five in all.

When I write, I let everything out. Everything I’ve ever felt about that boy is laid out in black and white, on a paper no one else will see. I pour my heart out to that paper, then I sign it, seal it, and stick it in the box. It will never see the light of day again.

They’re not love letters, in the cheesy romance movie kind of way. I write them when I want to be done with love, when I want to stop loving the boy of my infatuation. At some point, I can’t handle that all-consuming, thinking-about-him-every-hour-of-the-day kind of love anymore. When it gets to that point, I write his letter, and suddenly I’m okay again.

 

_My letters set me free. Or at least they’re supposed to._


	2. [1]

[1]

 

Bill is Bev’s boyfriend, but I guess you could say that our whole family loves him. Before he was dating Bev, he was just Bill. He’s been here for most of my tangible memories. He moved in next door to us back when I was eight. It feels like he has just always been here, which is kind of right. He’s been here for nearly half of my life, at least.

My dad loves Josh, because he’s tired of girls. He’s around girls all day long. Most of his office is full of female coworkers, and he’s got three daughters at home. I think he also likes Bill because he helps around the house with chores without having to be asked. It’s almost like he lives here. Bev, Sadie and I are practically useless with chores. The last time Dad asked us to help in the yard, Bev got mad because her only white sundress was ruined in mud, I cried because the hose got my book wet, and Sadie got dirt in her eyes, and, you guessed it, cried too. 

Sadie loves Bill because he’ll hang out with her and not get bored. She’s nine, and gets hyper-fixated on new things almost weekly. Once, when she was in her horse phase, Bill played stables with her every afternoon for two weeks straight. He pretended to be a horse just to please her for so long, that he skinned his knees. But that’s just Bill. 

If I had to say why Bev loves him, my best guess would be because he was there at the right time. One summer, maybe five years ago, they’d just gotten extremely close. That was the summer little Sadie, who was hardly out of her toddler stage, and I spent a lot of time hanging out together. Let’s just say many afternoons were spent spying on Beverly and her new friends from afar. I think it was the following school year that his stutter became almost unnoticeable. 

We are in the living room, and Sadie is pasting pictures of various dog breeds onto a poster board, while one of the cartoons she always watches plays on the television. Laughing at one of the terrible jokes one of the characters says, she suddenly turns to us and says, “When Daddy asks me what I want for Christmas, I am just gonna say ‘pick any of these breeds, and we’ll be good.’ ”

A commercial comes on for some movie starring a girl with a healthy poof of red curls on top of her head. It made me think of that one Disney Princess, Merida. She was Scottish, wasn’t she? The girl in the commercial was undergoing some kind of romance against a backdrop of lush green mountains and rolling green hills. She looked free, and was wrapped up in the middle of some juicy romance, which happened to be one of my favorite things. 

“Bev, I should come to Scotland for my spring break!” The words came out suddenly, I definitely wasn’t planning them. But, Scotland seemed like a really cool place, and spending a week abroad did not sound like a bad idea. I could picture it now; me and Bev on top of one of those rolling green hills, the wind in our hair. Maybe a whirlwind romance with some cute Scottish guy… 

“Do you think Daddy will let you?” Beverly’s eyes lit up. 

“Sure, he can’t say no to having one less girl in the house,” I reassure. But it is true that I’ve never ever flown on an airplane before, let alone flown by myself. I’ve also never really left Maine, let alone the whole country. Would I have to do it all by myself? Would the airport staff help me, or would they laugh at me? Would Bev meet me at the airport, or would I have to navigate through Scotland on my own until I found the hotel? 

Bill seemed to notice the sheer terror on my face, because he said, “there’s nothing to worry about. Your dad can’t say no, if I go with you.”

“Yeah! We can stay at some crappy hotels and learn how to play the bagpipes or something.” I instantly brighten, a smile blooming on my face. 

“We can get good enough to play at someone’s wedding!” Bill throws in, the same smile growing on his face. 

“Um, would either of you remember that you’ve never had any musical talent?” Bev asks amusedly, cracking a small smirk, the way she always does. 

“What about me?” Sadie whines from the floor next to us. 

“What? You can’t play any instruments either,” I remind her. “Remember when you tried the clarinet, and gave it up after a week? That thing is still in the basement somewhere.”

“No, I wasn’t talking about music. I was  _ talking  _ about Scotland, you goose,” Sadie responded, face heating to a rosy red. When you are as pale and redheaded as Sadie is, the slightest thing can freshen your face to the color of strawberries in season. She looks just like Beverly- just like mom. I had always been the odd one out. I look more like dad. Sometimes people say that Beverly and Sadie hardly look like my sisters at all. 

I wave off the blushing elementary schooler. “You’re too little to keep up with us in Scotland.” 

She stands from the floor, walking over to Bev and climbing in her lap, even though she’s far too big to be sitting in her sister’s lap. The only reason she fits at all, is because Bev is tall and gangly enough to accommodate her. “Bevvie, you’ll let me come to Scotland with you guys, won’t you?”

“Maybe we could make it into a family vacation, and bring Dad along,” Beverly responded, hugging Sadie tightly. “Could you imagine? You and me and Bill and [y/n] and daddy all partying it up in Scotland together!” 

I suppress the urge to roll my eyes. That is not at all what I was thinking, when I thought Scotland. I so did not feel like hearing dad yell, and having to inevitably help wrangle Sadie so we don’t lose her in a foreign country. 

***

It’s much later into the night. Bill went home a while ago, after his mother called him and got on him about chores at his own house. Dad and Sadie are both already asleep; Dad’s always been one to turn in early for the night, and Sadie’s still young enough for a bedtime. Bev’s at the table, reading the book she started earlier in the week. I’m standing next to her, rolling chocolate chip cookie dough into little balls. I’m hoping that baking her favorite cookies will get me back in Sadie’s good graces. Earlier, when I went up to say goodnight, Sadie had locked the door against me. 

Bev’s being extra quiet, and when I glance at her, I see her blue eyes have darkened. Whenever she’s thinking hard about something, the blue in her eyes goes from sky, to a foaming, storm-wracked sea. It was so intense that it scared me, it always had. 

“I broke up with Bill tonight,” she said quietly, abruptly. I stare slack-jawed at her, dropping the sphere of cookie dough in my hands onto the tray below me. It rolls, leaving a streak of grease behind it. 

“Come on, sis. It was time,” she said. Her voice wasn’t wobbling, like all the girls on television do when they break up with their boyfriends. Her eyes aren’t bioluminescent blue and red-rimmed, the way they get after she’s been crying. 

She looks like she’s fine. She always looks like she’s fine. Beverly is always fine, that’s just how it’s always been. How it’s always had to be. 

“Why would it have to be time?” I said, trying to be nonchalant. “Just because you’re going to college doesn’t mean you have to purge all of your relationships.”

“ [y/n], I’m going to college in Scotland, not some school here on the East Coast. Hell, I’d probably have still done it if I was just going to UCLA, or something..” She pushes a tuft of orange hair off of her forehead, closing her eyes for a minute. “What would even be the point of continuing this?”

I could not believe my ears. When had she adopted this sort of attitude towards Bill? “Because it’s Bill, that’s why. He loves you! He loves you like those guys in romance movies love their girlfriends.” 

Beverly rolls her eyes, like I’m up to my old antics, the way I used to get when we were younger. She thinks I’m a baby, that’s what I always got from those looks she gives me. I’m not being a baby. Everything I’m saying is true. Bill loves her so much, that every single person at our high school has been jealous of them since they started dating. Even the couples who’ve been together longer than them. 

Beverly’s voice rings out once again, “do you want to hear something Mommy told me once?” 

“Huh?” I instantly forget the small rant that had been going on in my head. Yes, of course I want to hear what Mommy told her. I always do. Most of the stories I know about Mommy are stories Beverly told me. I drink up any tiny details Bev remembers of mom. 

“She told me not to go to college with a boyfriend. She didn’t want me to be one of those girls who always hung back in the dorm room, afraid to let loose and do all those college things you always hear about.” That was such a mom thing of her to say. Mommy always wanted the best for us. She wanted us to get every ounce of wisdom out of everything we did. Every single experience out there, was something Mommy wanted us to experience. 

I stay silent. Beverly has a good point, but it is impossible for me to pick a side between her and Bill. Later, after the cookies are done and I’ve cleaned up, I go upstairs to bed. I look out the window. Bill’s bedroom light is still on. 


End file.
